


Iodine

by Crazyhotsoup



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Morgan Whump, Arthur Whump, Drabble, Heavy Angst, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyhotsoup/pseuds/Crazyhotsoup
Summary: "Arthur thrived off of pain.It was what his daddy raised him on.It was what the streets made him dole out himself.It was what Dutch drilled into him. "
Relationships: John Marston & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	Iodine

**Author's Note:**

> Late night urge to write

Arthur didn’t want to have to explain to Hosea why he kept coming back with scrapes. He didn’t want to explain why he let himself walk too close to the edge of a steep hill. He didn’t want to explain why, when the flap of skin on his elbow got ripped loose, he barely even flinched. It was too hard to explain why he kept getting in fights. 

But he knew why. 

He craved pain. He craved the ache, the burn. He craved the pinching sting of iodine and the sensitivity of bruises. 

Arthur thrived off of pain. 

It was what his daddy raised him on. 

It was what the streets made him dole out himself. 

It was what Dutch drilled into him. 

He was a well-oiled machine. The type that needed to run to work well. 

And pain? It was what made him work best. 

Arthur closed his eyes and let himself drift back to one of his first fights. 

_He had only been ten. The townsfolk had caught wind of him thieving and he panicked._

_They had cornered him in an alleyway and he tried to draw a knife on them._

_Arthur, yet to fully master his body, let alone skill, ended up with the weapon turned back on himself. He got sliced across the stomach with his own blade. If he hadn’t shoved it into his attacker, he would’ve died then and there._

_Instead, Arthur limped away. Bloody and twenty bucks richer. He had managed to fight off a group of three men and get away fairly unscathed. Of course, it had hurt like a bitch, but he had stitched himself up. The wound had turned into a jagged thing, silvery-white flesh spreading across his stomach like a bolt of lightning._

He felt himself picking at the scab on his elbow. The baby skin was sensitive and easy to rip back open. Without thinking it through, he scratched his nails under the raised flesh and pulled. 

The skin peeled away from his elbow and he grimaced. 

“Arthur! What the hell are you doing?” John, of course, it had been John. 

He grunted and scratched at the raw nerves. Blood slicked his fingertips and dripped onto his thigh. 

“Arthur,” John swatted at his hand as he spoke. “Stop it. This ain’t healthy.” 

“Oh fuck off John.” He didn’t need another lecture on how he should act, how he should treat himself. 

“Arthur, you, you can’t.” He had heard the same sentiment too many times to count. 

“I can’t? Com’ on, John, it ain’t the worst thing I could be doing.” 

"Arthur stop it." He frowned at John and rose from his seat near the water. He had slipped away from camp, hoping to find a peaceful place to contemplate. 

"Leave me be, John." 

"Not again." He screwed his eyes shut and let out a huff. 

"You still on about that?" 

"You had a goddamn pistol in your mouth, of course, I'm still on about it." 

"And you went and told on me." His bloody fingers twitched towards his gunbelt. 

"What was I supposed to do?" John's face twisted into a scared frown.

"I ain't gonna do it." 

"Arth-" He cut him off. 

"I ain't gonna, owe these people too much." John let out an exasperated noise and threw up his hands. Arthur rolled his eyes and started towards his horse. 

"Where you going?" He pulled himself into his saddle and looked down at John. 

"Need iodine for my elbow."


End file.
